Veterans of the UK’s nuclear tests are facing desperate times as they seek justice and recognition for their suffering over decades. John Morris, now 86, is one among the dwindling number of the 22,000 military personnel exposed to radiation during the UK's nuclear testing operations. When he stood on Christmas Island at just 18 years old for the first time back in 1956, the last thing he could have imagined was the life-altering toll those experiences would take on him and his family.
Almost seventy years later, Morris, along with other veterans, is raising alarms over the long-overdue acknowledgment of their sacrifices. Their fight unveiled through the lens of the BBC documentary Britain’s Nuclear Bomb Scandal: Our Story, aims at disclosing hidden truths about the health consequences they suffered due to those grim tests.
The documentary, set to air on Wednesday evening, recounts Morris's sad tale and many others, emphasizing the health complications ranging from cancers to birth defects, which they believe stem directly from their exposure to radioactive materials during testing. Unlike other nuclear powers, the UK has yet to extend any form of compensation to these veterans, leaving many to question the legitimacy of the government’s stance on the potential health risks.
According to Morris, the heartbreak deepened with the loss of his infant son, Steven, just four months after birth. Morris suspects the cause was rooted deep within the radiation he endured during Operation Grapple, which encompassed several nuclear weapons tests. “The death certificate said he died of pneumonia,” recalls Morris, visibly pained. “I blame the Ministry of Defence and the experiments they did on us for Steven's death - and I always will.”
His story is among numerous testimonies airing now, shedding light on the Indigenous communities who were similarly affected during the tests conducted across the Pacific and Australia. Many survivors describe themselves as mere subjects of live human experimentation as Britain raced to solidify its status as a nuclear power.
The campaign to reveal the truth and secure reparations for these ill veterans has taken many twists over the years. Initially sparked decades ago, the movement forced through legal battles claiming health issues, such as cancers and birth defects, stem from nuclear testing dating back to the early 1950s.
Despite historical reluctance, Morris and other veterans found renewed strength last year due to newly unearthed evidence, especially obtained from the so-called “Gledhill memo.” This memo, initially drafted back in 1958, spoke of blood tests conducted on Squadron Leader Terry Gledhill, signaling gross irregularities. It suggested there was awareness by military officials of the potential dangers and health risks posed to servicemen, something the government has traditionally denied.
This recent probe has gathered traction, leading to the declassification of approximately 4,000 pages of documents, though Mouris expresses concern over the missing medical records documenting his exposure. “They let me down for 70 years,” he stated recently.
The inquiry has revealed alarming directives from government officials about monitoring personnel health during the tests. Yet, many veterans claim routine blood and urine tests taken at the time never made it to their medical records. The lack of transparency has bred skepticism, and some have suggested historical cover-ups may have obstructed justice for these veterans.
“Something stinks,” Morris insists, demanding urgent governmental action. Their latest plea for assistance is directed toward Sir Keir Starmer, the Labour leader, hoping to leverage the promise made by his predecessor, Jeremy Corbyn, who had pledged financial support. The irony, as some veterans point out, is heightened by the discrepancy of promises held against the persistent void of action and recognition.
Currently, both the Labour and Conservative governments assert they have not withheld records pertinent to these issues, contesting any connections between the tests and their health concerns. “Research has found no link between the nuclear tests, ill health, and genetic defects,” argued the Ministry of Defence officials, even as opposing research from new studies out of New Zealand has indicated otherwise.
“The veterans are dying at a rate of knots and all we want is the bloody truth,” expressed Morris, with palpable frustration. Indeed, these battles have become increasingly urgent as the years take their toll on the aging veteran population. John Folkes, another veteran, lends his voice to the growing chorus, recounting how, as a young airman, he was ordered to fly directly through atomic mushroom clouds. The ordeal, he recalls, left him with permanent tremors and lasting psychological scars.
Yet, the veterans continue to face formidable challenges as they advance their legal claims against the government. Stalwart organizations working on their behalf have recently uncovered instances where legal representatives at the time were assured there were no missing records, a claim between the Ministry of Defence and the veterans that's raising red flags among advocates.
Promising legislative changes are on the horizon, as hinted by the potential introduction of the “Hillsborough law” aimed at public officials suspected of misconduct. This change would enforce a legal duty for transparency when faced with serious allegations, but its application appears too late for many of the veterans who have fought long and hard for justice. Still, they remain hopeful something tangible might come to fruition before their time runs out.
“All I want is to meet him and get a pathway forward,” reflects Morris on his long-desired meeting with Starmer, highlighting the yearning for accountability amid years of betrayal. The veterans hope for progress before those deeply affected pass away without recognition of their considerable sacrifices.
The echoes of the past are stark reminders of the costs of war, not just on the battlefield but on the bodies and lives of soldiers subjected to experiments often out of sight and mind. The potent stories of Morris and his fellow veterans serve as poignant reminders of the dire need for justice, introspection, and accountability from government officials who have too long avoided the truth at the cost of their service members’ lives.
